Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Patchwork

I couldn't count on fingers, toes and teeth
the number of times she's crossed my mind
or the number of times that I have played blind
like I didn't notice her the second she walked in
like the lights didn't suddenly go dim
like my mouth wasn't suddenly filled to the brim
with every single not worth her time pick up line
that I held back, with a stupid grin to hide behind
cause for once in my life,
I'm too scared or to scarred to say anything.
Nowadays I am just a remnant.
I am the eraser shavings and smudged ink of every love story I've ever been written out of
I am the discarded candy wrappers of every sweet nothing I have ever whispered in someones ear
I am the shadow of every bruise left by a bad idea that got the better of me
I am one third the man I was when I met her
One third the man I wish I was when I met her
One third the man I have been trying to be since I met her
and for some reason in spite of every math class I've ever slept through,
all those parts haven't added up to a whole
somehow I am the remainder of one too many long divisions
far too many bad decisions
six or seven off the cuff clumsy incisions
cutting myself apart to get out of everyday awkward positions
that I, unlike most folks cant get a grip on,
the stuff people walk over, I'm more likely to trip on
but I'm bottoms up on on what the rest wont even sip on
my shoulders hold just enough weight, theres no space to put a chip on
and still I'm no good at tying knots, so I'll stick to the clip on
but still.
I am catching myself getting caught on of the corners of her smile
I am letting myself get lost at the edges of her laughter
She's got me think about everything before and after
and everything in between
and somehow it would seem
and I am just now starting to dream
that she is interested in things that are less than whole
that maybe she is waiting with love for a patchwork soul










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